* * *
They were deposited back in the buffer with what was probably more than the necessary amount of force. It certainly hurt more than the previous transitions had.
“Welcome back, Outsider.” The guardian of the buffer was as implacable as ever. “We trust that your visit was enlightening.”
“You could say that, I suppose,” Hearthfire muttered as she got to her hooves and dusted herself off. It was an automatic response, however: as far as she could tell, there was no dirt here, and even her hooves were unmuddied after hours of walking through the Spring’s rich soil. “I was attacked. I thought that was against the rules?”
“It is. There is what one might call ‘wiggle room’, however. Especially with regards to the Lady’s own subjects, or those with affinity for her Season.”
“That wasn’t what I would call wriggle room. She might as well have bashed me over the head. If Cas hadn’t been...” Her brow furrowed as realisation dawned. “Wait, Cas wasn’t there. I left her behind.”
“Nevertheless, the envoy of the Spring did include your companion in the invitation. It was within the rules.” Hearthfire gave it a suspicious glance, but the grey unicorn was perfectly poker-faced. Unreadable.
“Well, regardless. I don’t know if I should even risk visiting the other two Seasons, now!”
“Refusing the other Seasons would be within your rights, Outsider, but it would be poor etiquette.”
“Etiquette can take a hike. I think I can guess what the other two want with me. Hmph! They were both alike, in the end. I just want a chance to understand how they think, how they work, and the only thing they’re interested in is that stupid piece of rock...”
“We would suggest that you cannot understand them. We of the buffer, and they of the Seasons, are not the same as Outsiders, however much they would like to present themselves as such to you. It is a fallacy to believe that you can find common ground with them. There is nothing here, in your terms, for you to comprehend. To them, you are no more than an obstacle to something which they want, one to which they bear no more goodwill than the rules compel from them.”
“...is this your way of telling me to leave?”
“No. It is merely a statement of fact which we, as your surrogate host, hope will improve the remainder of your stay.”
The passing minutes were robbing the events in the Spring of their immediacy, but Hearthfire was not sure she would ever forget that feeling of unravelling at the edges. She was feeling drained, and frustrated, and angry. She had half a mind to leave, return to the docks and never look back, and half a mind to visit the other two Seasons, just out of sheer bloody-mindedness.
“How long do I have left, anyway? I can’t tell the time in this place.”
“Forty-two hours twenty-six minutes eighteen seconds.”
“All right. Hang on a sec...”
Her ears pricked up as the idea hit her.
“If I were to leave my belongings with you for safekeeping, would any of the Seasons be able to take them from you?”
“We do not believe so, however, the rules have not been interpreted with regards to this matter.”
“And what does that mean?”
“Exactly that. The rules have never been tested in this direction. The situation has never arisen.”
“I assumed you had some kind of, you know, encyclopedic knowledge of the rules?”
“We do not. We believe that you may be conflating our rules with the laws held by mortal nations. They are not the same.”
“How so?”
“The closest analogy would be the rules one might deduce to the functioning of magic. They are not systems that we devised, they are simply the way the world works. There is no complete set of rules, there is only an incomplete understanding which we have accumulated, essentially empirically.”
“You’re saying that you don’t know what the rules are until someone tries to break them? What the hay happens then?”
“They fail. It is impossible for us to break the rules. The rules govern how the Seasons interact, where the lines of engagement fall, they determine how the balance shifts and what information we of the buffer are required to record. The buffer has never had a possession before. We do not know if the rules would allow a possession to be taken away from us.”
“That is... spectacularly unhelpful.”
“The Seasons are always testing the limits of the rules, seeking advantages over each other, however we of the buffer have proved quite immutable to them. So it is possible that they cannot interfere with something we possess, but we could not say with certainty.”
“Fine, fine. Forget I asked,” Hearthfire said, more interested in considering this new insight into the City’s running than in the grey unicorn’s actual answer.
Really, it would be foalish of me to visit the other Seasons. It seems to be nothing but trouble. On the other hoof...
On the other hoof... what was she going to do for the next two days if she didn’t? She would probably go crazy with nothing but drab grey architecture to look at, and no one but Cas and the grey unicorn for company.
“Do you have a normal job?”
“We are not sure what you mean, Outsider.”
“You. All the other grey ponies around here are busy all the time, but you just follow me around and look after me, right?”
“Would you rather that we did not?”
“No, no, I don’t mind, I was just wondering. What did you do before I arrived? Are you the same unicorn that I met outside the city? Or are you all interchangeable or something?”
“We suppose that you could call us that. From your perspective, we could say that we manifest when there is a need. You are in need of an assistant in navigating the buffer, and here we are, as soon as you acquired that need.”
* * *
The next envoy did not arrive until - by the grey unicorn’s reckoning - four hours later. Hearthfire had found that she had almost no sense of the passage of time. It could have been a week, or a few minutes. She had passed the time trying to discern if the grey unicorn had anything approaching individuality, but was stymied by the impossibility of distinguishing between the group ‘we’ and the singular ‘we’. She had tried seeking out others, to see if they reacted the same way to various kinds of questions, but they all seemed to ignore her. Whether that was because they were incapable of communicating with her, or because she was simply considered to be somepony else’s problem, she couldn’t say for sure.
The envoy of the Autumn was as rosy as it had been the last time she had encountered it, carried with it the same slight scent of decay and cold air.
“My Queen of the Autumn hopes that you are recovered from your unfortunate excursion to the Spring, and wishes to assure you that no such barbaric attacks would be considered by -”
“I seem to remember the Lady of the Spring saying something similar,” Hearthfire interjected into its prepared spiel. “How do you know about that, anyway?”
The envoy was momentarily at a loss for words, as if it were wholly unfamiliar with forming its own sentences, but it rallied.
“All of the Seasons observe each other. The rules allow it.”
“Of course they do...”
“If I may continue, Outsider?”
“If you must. Yes, please do continue.”
“- the Queen of the Autumn. While you are a creature native to the Season of her enemy, you will be guaranteed absolute safety while within her realm. She wishes only to meet you, and fully understand why the Winter is so fascinated with you, and why the Spring would so brazenly assault you.”
“Well, I really don’t know if I should be accepting any more invitations. They have ended very badly for me, so far, after all.”
“If I could convey the degree of sincerity with which the Queen of the Autumn holds her promises, I would, but alas I can only ask you to believe.”
“Maybe you should bring her here? I might be inclined to believe, if it were - so to speak - from the horse’s mouth.”
Hearthfire got the impression that, if it had had a face, it would have been smiling nervously.
“No, that would be quite unseemly.”
“Would it be against the rules?”
“Not as far as I am aware. It is simply not done.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
It was the grey unicorn who stepped forward to answer.
“The buffer is neutral territory. For the ruler of a Season to set foot here would be a dangerous move, and potentially leave them open to attack. They would be far from their safe haven, and vulnerable.”
“But not insurmountably so,” the cold, cold voice of the King of the Winter added, as his hooves landed gently on the hard, grey earth. The earth cracked like unstable ice under his weight. “It could be a calculated risk, if one wanted something badly enough.”